


Bros Before Hoes

by SoYoureClairevoyant



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Break Up, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Pre-Canon, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoYoureClairevoyant/pseuds/SoYoureClairevoyant
Summary: How Yuuri, Victor, Phichit and Chris get through breakups before each other.
Relationships: Christophe Giacometti/Original Character(s), Katsuki Yuuri/Original Character(s), Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri, Phichit Chulanont/Original Character(s), Victor Nikiforov/Original Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	1. Looks like a Cinnamon Roll, Is Actually a Cinnamon Roll

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to napsushi for not only being a wonderful beta, but also helping me figure out how all of these boys perceive relationships and breakups.

Phichit could barely get his key in the lock for all his hands shook with excitement. Not only did Celestino finally give his go ahead on adding the triple flip to the Thai skater’s official repertoire, but he was consistent all through practice that morning, landing it more than half the time. Plus, a long-overdue trip to the school bookstore had yielded some interesting gossip. Now that he was home, he could cue up the night’s movie - his own choice this week - and get his and Yuuri’s dinner cooking. Phichit couldn’t wait to gorge on carbs and tell his roommate everything. 

As he was wont to do, Phichit made an entrance. The guy practically breaks down the door, only slightly registering that it’s already unlocked, and catches sight of his roomie and best friend already home. Weird, since Yuuri usually has practice in the afternoon and helps run a tutoring session until later in the evening, but Phichit’s not complaining. Instead, his trademark excitement takes over and he can’t stop the giant grin on his face nor the overenthusiastic flinging of his keys into the bowl on the counter. He flinches at the sound but shakes it off as he launches immediately into a recount of his day.

“Oooooooooh my gods, Yuuri, you are never gonna believe what happened to me today! So, most importantly, that guy at the bookstore?  _ Finally  _ gave me his Insta! Cutie-patootie walks up to me in the manga section and starts flirting HARD so we -- Yuuri, are you crying?” 

“No.” 

Phichit dropped his fluorescent green backpack and quickly kicked off his shoes while his roommate softly sniffled across the room. Yuuri sat curled up on the farthest end of their sofa, still in his practice gear and facing the small window overlooking the street below. Just as the younger skater stepped closer, he saw his roommate attempt to surreptitiously wipe away the tears tracks on his cheeks with the heel of his hand. Phichit slowly lowered himself down on the sofa, leaving a seat between him and Yuuri. His voice softened without his trying when he spoke.

“You’re crying. You’re crying, and you’re trying to hide it from me.”

Yuuri curled farther into himself and clutched his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible. “I’m not crying.”

“You are, and you’re lying about it.” Phichit scooted closer and reached out a hand to smooth Yuuri’s hair reassuringly, the same way his mom does. He could tell his friend was in crisis about something, and internally resolved that neither one of them was going to move from this spot until he got to the bottom of it. “Do you wanna talk?”

“It’s stupid. I don’t wanna be a burden.” Yuuri hid his face in his knees while Phichit continued to smooth his hair. It was a losing battle since Yuuri’s hair famously stuck up unless he used a whole tube of gel in it, but he couldn’t just sit there. The Thai skater scrunched his face in disapproval and tried again.

“First of all, Yuuri, you are never a burden, especially not to your best friend who loves you and admires you and knows your weird fetishes and obsessions. Secondly, If I’m asking then I clearly have the mental space to listen. Please tell me what happened to make you so upset?”

Yuuri could only shake his head and choke down a small sob, rubbing his forehead against his knees and smearing fresh tears on his track pants. Phichit resorts to eliminating potential culprits based on  _ yes or no _ answers. “Was it skating?”

Head shake.

“Okay, was it something from home? Did your sister call?”

Another head shake.

“Was it school? Wait. Did your idol post another picture of his dog?”

Phichit grinned as the Japanese skater gave a hollow laugh and lifted his head to give his roommate a sad smile.

“It wasn’t Victor’s Instagram feed.”

“Okay, well...was it something I did? Was it the promise of “The King and the Skater” for movie night later? Because I was mostly kidding. We don’t have to watch it again, although I keep saying the fourth time is when it gets really good.”

Yuuri shook his head sadly and cleared his throat. His voice broke as he finally admitted, “Ryan broke up with me.”

Phichit’s face broke to understanding and concern. He pushed Yuuri’s knees down and pulled him into a tight hug. He tucked his roommate’s head under his own chin and even went so far as to put a small kiss on the back of the dark hair. “Oh, Yuuri. I’m so sorry.”

“He did it after practice today, in front of the whole hockey team,” Yuuri sobbed quietly. “He said--he said I was too high maintenance. That I didn’t know how to relax. And that I didn’t support him. When he walked away, I could hear them all laughing at me. One guy even smacked my ass on his way out and told me to “hit him up if I needed help unwinding.” I was so embarrassed, I couldn’t move. Celestino had to take me home.”

Phichit glared out the window, suddenly filled with a righteous fury to protect his best friend. “What assholes. Remind me to report them both to Coach Matt. And then, just for fun, I’ll fill Ryan’s locker with shaving cream and then change the lock. Bet I could get Laurel to help me.”

Yuuri laughed around another sob. “I dunno why I’m so upset. It’s not like we were together all that long.”

“Well, based on what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen, he’s a grade-A jackass with a giant ego that needs constant validation and an inferiority complex that he actively chooses to take out on those around him. You’ve spent the last six months internalizing all of his criticism on top of dealing with your own shit. These tears? I think this it’s just your body purging all that bad energy.”

Yuuri rested his head on Phichit’s chest, and the younger man took the opportunity to pull a tissue from his pocket and dab away the wetness on Yuuri’s face. For a moment, the only sounds in the apartment were Yuuri’s deep breaths and Phichit’s Instagram notifications. Then Phichit had to ruin the moment.

“Also he’s not exactly a genius in bed, so that’s something to cry about.”

Yuuri sat upright with a horrified expression. “Dude!”

“Yuuri, our rooms share a wall, and noise-cancelling headphones can only do so much. I could always tell when he finished because he’d say ‘Ryan Rules.’”

“Oh, my god.” Yuuri hung his head and covered his eyes with his hands. Phichit struck preemptively, though, and wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders, effectively trapping him in aggressive affection.

“Before you say you hate me, let me remind you that you love me.”

“Yeah…” Yuuri sighed.   


“Wait, he told you you’re high maintenance?” Phichit recoiled in disbelief. “He spent more time preening over his Bieber haircut in the bathroom than you have before competing!”

“He did, didn’t he?”

“And talk about no support. He never even took an interest in your skating! He came to the rink to see you, what, twice in the six months you two were together? And one time was because you left your team jacket in his cart, so it doesn’t even count.”

“You’re right on both facts.” Yuuri pulled his knees back on the sofa, this time crossed underneath him, and pulled a blanket from behind him. He wrapped it around himself and over his head like a cape and folded his arms over his chest to hold it there. Maximum comfort and coze.

Meanwhile, Phichit pulled out his phone and tapped it aggressively with his thumbs, presumably either texting Laurel about his revenge plan while simultaneously emailing the hockey coach about his players’ behavior. “That jackass never even watched Victor’s programs with you, and he knows how important that man is to you and your career! Yuuri, Ryan isn’t worthy of cleaning your stinking, sweaty socks after jump practice, let alone calling himself your boyfriend. He should have been on his knees in gratitude when you even looked his way.”

“I dunno, Peach. He was nice. He wasn’t the best boyfriend, but he could have been a lot worse. God knows, I’ve dated worse.”

Phichit stopped typing, locked his phone and set it face down on the couch. He faced Yuuri head on and turned his friend’s head so they could look eye-to-eye. “Yuuri, listen to me. You are my best friend in the world, and I love you to pieces. Stop blushing, I haven’t even gotten to the sappy part yet! You are a cinnamon roll too good and too pure for this world, and especially too good and pure for Ryan, whose idea of a date night was “Netflix and chill” where he was the only one getting off.” The older skater cringed at the memory of long nights stroking Ryan’s ego - and other things - just for him to either leave or fall asleep after he came and leave Yuuri with a mess on his clothes and blankets. Phichit offered him a small smile and continued. “Some day, someone is gonna come along and sweep you off your skates and show you every day how much they adore you and cherish you. They’ll support your dreams, and help you grow and achieve them. They’re gonna love you until there’s no doubt in your mind that you are the sunshine in their life. Because you, my beautiful boy, deserve nothing less than that.”

Yuuri blinks at his roommate’s speech. His blush remains high on his cheekbones and one grateful tear rolls down his face into his capelet. His one hand emerges to wipe it away as he smiles. “You’re a really good friend, you know?”

Phichit grinned again and picked his phone back up. “Jury’s still out on that, but Katie down at the sushi place owes me a favor. What do you say we order you a little taste of home and then put on a movie? I think we even still have some peanut butter cups in the freezer from New Year’s. We can eat and cuddle. You can describe Ryan’s sexual performances based on what I heard through the wall, and then rate them based on how good they actually were.”

Yuuri reached out suddenly and practically pulled his friend into his blanket. He could only whisper around the emotions flooding through him. “A really, really good friend.”

Phichit hugged Yuuri back, fierce and fortifying. “You’re someone’s sunshine, Yuuri. I know it.”


	2. Looks Like They Could Kill You, Is Actually a Cinnamon Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Phichit handles a breakup and Yuuri's reaction to it.

“Yuuri, how do I look? Notice anything different?”

Phichit did a little spin, his open hoodie jingling as the zipper hit his side. Yuuri looked up from his laptop where he’d been working on a paper and gave his roommate a once-over. Finding nothing amiss nor outwardly ridiculous, he shrugged and shook his head.

“You look fine. Did you cut your hair or something? New eyeliner?”   


Phichit grinned maniacally. “Nope, started a new diet last night. Lost 180 pounds.”

Not looking up from his computer, Yuuri scoffed and tapped away at his keyboard. “What are you talking about?”

“Ian and I broke up,” Phichit explained. “Or, more accurately, Ian got drunk at the Fraternity Row Spring Break Bash party last week and cheated on me with someone else, and I found out today. Thus our relationship has ended.” The Thai disappeared into his and Yuuri’s shared bedroom without further explanation. Yuuri hummed in agreement, not quite registering what Phichit had said until a moment later. He looked up abruptly and shut his laptop, shoving it aside and following his friend.

“Wait. Wait wait! Ian cheated on you? I thought he was a good guy.”

“I did, too. But apparently whereas you turn into a dancy seductress when you drink and I believe I can fight anything that moves, Ian will throw all monogamy out the window and make out with a blond in the host frat’s closet.” Yuuri blushed at the implication but made no noise to dispute the facts. Phichit took the opportunity to toss Yuuri a pair of workout pants and sneakers. “Come on! The gym calls us. I need a distraction and an outlet and you’re the only person I trust to be my spotter!”

Phichit stood in their doorway, expectant eyes flicking from Yuuri, still standing incredulously and holding his pants, and the clock underneath their TV. Though surprised at the evening’s recent developments, Yuuri pulled on his pants over his shorts in one fluid motion and grabbed his phone and gym bag.

“Let me get my shoes.”

>>>

Two hours later and it was dark outside the gym. The two skaters had hit the treadmills, the weights and had spent the last forty-five minutes trading spots in front of a punching bag. Sweat covered Phchit’s forehead so it shined under the fluorescent lights. Yuuri panted with the exertion of taking his friend’s punches and kicks. He spoke up in an attempt to persuade him to call it a night.

“Peach, we need to go home.”

Phichit landed a solid two-punch combo and a kick at the bag. He stumbled into the momentum, but righted himself and landed another punch. Breathless, he answered, “I can’t do that. Ian’s crap is still in my room.”

Yuuri exhaled with his roommate’s next kick like he was told to do. “Phichit, your hands are gonna bruise if you keep going. Ciao Ciao will bench you.”

“I don’t care. It’s better than wallowing.” Phichit grunted around his words, trying to hold back tears but clearly spent both physically and emotionally.

“It’s not wallowing to grieve over your relationship.”

“I can’t stop, Yuuri.” A tear slipped out of The younger skater’s eye as he landed punch after punch without so much as a breath in between. Yuuri would have missed it had he not chosen that moment to peak around.

“Why not? Phichit. Phichit, stop. Stop!” Yuuri let go of the bag and narrowly avoided Phichit’s next punch. Despite his speed and repetition, Yuuri still managed to catch both of his wrists and used his friend’s forward momentum to pull him into a suffocating embrace. Phichit cried. He whimpered into Yuuri’s shoulder and let his tears soak into the already sweat-soaked fabric of Yuuri’s t-shirt.

The two of them received suspicious looks from the other late-night gym-goers, but Yuuri shot them all pointed looks as he tried to shush his friend soothingly. Eventually, he lowers the both of them to the smelly gym floor, Yuuri cradling Phichit against his chest and Phichit sprawled out between his legs.

“My heart hurts, Yuuri,” he whimpers. “He cheated on me, and it hurts. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Something in Yuuri steeled in that moment. He kissed the side of Phichit’s head and pushed him out his lap, determination in the set of his shoulders and stance

“...Come with me.” Yuuri reached out a still-wrapped hand to pull Phichit from the floor.

Phichit gaped for a moment before pulling himself up. He wiped his face with the backs of his hands and gaped at his normally shy and mild-mannered roommate. “What?”

“Get your shoes. We’re taking a walk,” Yuuri stated as he slipped his own back onto his sock feet and hoisted their bags onto his shoulder. “I need to talk to Ian.”

“I don’t wanna see him, Yuuri.” Phichit grabbed his sneakers and followed Yuuri out of the gym, into the spring air. He shivered as his sweat cooled on his limbs and face and Yuuri, always attuned to those around him, tossed him a hoodie from three steps ahead. Not breaking his stride, the Japanese skater made his intent clear.

“Yeah, but I do. I have got some things to say to him.”

Phichit caught up to Yuuri and made a grab for his hand, pulling them both to a stop in front of a nondescript apartment building with an atrium visible through the glass double-doors. “Yuuri, please.”

“He hurt my best friend. He made several calculated decisions that resulted in him betraying your trust and breaking your heart.” Phichit flinched at the truth to the statement. “Someday in the future we might forget that Ian even existed, but right now he’s a coward and a cheater.” Yuuri took the stairs to the door two at a time and nearly entered the building, getting the attention of the girl sitting at the check-in desk. She watched him stop from behind the windows as Phichit made another effort to rein in his roommate’s fury.

“Yuuri, just stop.”

“Phichit, you - you are a giant ball of energy and positivity that frustrates me to no end, but in spite of all my crap, you have stuck by me and helped me through so much. Let me do this for you.”

“Please, Yuuri, don’t start anything with him.”

“I’m not starting anything. I’m finishing it. You can stay outside and wait for me here, but I am going to tell Ian what a piece of shit he is and how his actions have consequences. And then,” Yuuri stepped down a few stairs and put his hand on Phichit's shoulder reassuringly. “You and I are going to go home and curl up together with the hamsters and cry about how unfair the world is while we watch “The King and the Skater” as many times as it takes for the pain to stop.”

Phichit looked down at his shoes, touched at the lengths Yuuri was willing to go through to not only defend his honor but provide closure to a crappy situation. In his current state, he could only whisper, “...How are you so cool?”

Yuuri smiled. “I’m not. My sister told me I was gonna have to learn to fight my own battles when I moved here, and while I’m at it, I might as well help you fight yours. That’s what brothers do.”

Phichit looked up from the ground sharply, grinning at Yuuri as he savored being declared brothers by his mentor and friend. 

“Ice bros?” Phichit asked. Yuuri rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname but smiled wider nonetheless.

“For life.”


	3. Looks Like a Cinnamon Roll, Could Actually Kill You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to napsushi for being my beta and putting up with all of my headcanons. I am eternally in your debt.

“--And you have to bring that beautiful man you’ve been seeing. What’s his name again?”

Victor sighed as he yet again reminded Christophe about his latest paramour’s name. “Luc. But I’m afraid I can’t bring him. We’re no longer seeing each other.”

“Mon cher, what happened?” From over the phone, Victor could hear the crack of skates on ice as well as the tell-tale jostling of a gym bag. Chris was calling on his break. Wonderful.

“What always happens, Chris,” Victor said simply as he wandered his bedroom, his haphazard pile of laundry and stinking suitcase forgotten for the moment. “I trained and traveled and competed. He waited and worked, He got tired of waiting and we decided to call it off. A mature and amicable separation.”

“Oh, Victor, I’m sorry.”   


Victor smiled sadly as he plopped down on his bed next to Makkachin and folded his legs underneath himself. Absentmindedly, he stroked his way up and down her back while he spoke. “Don’t be, Chris. We weren’t well-matched anyway. To tell you the truth, I think he just wanted a taste of fame. It was far more bitter than he imagined.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The sounds of the ice got quieter and nearly disappeared. Chris must have moved into the locker room for privacy.

“Nothing.” the Russian placated. He tucked his long blond hair behind his ear and tried to keep his voice level. No need to disparage his ex nor be anything but grateful for his own success and notoriety. “It doesn’t mean anything. Forget I said it. I’ll see you in a few weeks for the party.”

Just as he was about to pull his phone away from his ear, accented English laced with concern filled the line. “Victor…are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Truly! Luc was—is a very nice man, but the two of us were never going to be more to each other than a good lay. I don’t really feel anything other than relief.”

“It was that bad?”

“It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t anything.It was just something nice to say I had. I swear, Chris, sometimes I think I’m destined to be alone forever.”

“Have you met you? Charming, dashing, fun, wealthy, a jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass? The entire men’s bracket lusts after you. Even shy little Yuuri Katsuki is devoted to your every move.”

“Who?”

Chris giggled on the end of the line. “Just debuted in Seniors this year, representing Japan. Remind me to introduce you next time we’re all in the same country. The point is, if you ever decide you crave more than a fling, you have options and a best friend who has the dirt you need to narrow them down.”

Victor smiled at his best friend’s dedication. Somehow, despite his reputation as a mischief-maker, he always knew just how to make someone feel better. “Chris, you always know just what to say.”

“I have a gifted tongue, what can I say?” The cheeky smile could be heard even across borders and through a crappy cellular connection. “I have to go, cher, the ice is taunting me, and if I’m going to chase you around the circuit again this year, I must answer. Call me tomorrow! We’ll drink to your recovered bachelordom.”

Victor nodded even though Chris couldn’t see him “Of course, mon ami. Au revoir.”

He ended the call and tossed his phone behind him on the bed, feeling better but still a little numb. Flopping down and still ignoring the laundry beside him, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he should repaint again. Or move. Or just chop off his hair and get a new wardrobe like he’d been thinking about doing. Yakov would have a fit either way, but who cared, as long as he still landed his jumps?

“Makka, do you think there’s someone out there who’ll love me one day?”

Makkachin just sighed heavily, already fast asleep. Eventually, Victor closed his eyes and drifted off to as well, dreaming of one day being taken by surprise and swept off his feet by someone who would truly see him, and not just his name and medals.


End file.
